Waitin' for the porn to change

If there was anything that 15-year-old Dustin knew well, it was the many resplendent joys of pornography.

I couldn’t get a girlfriend to save my natural life, I wasn’t involved in sports and video games didn’t have that six-hours-a-day appeal that they did when I was an adolescent. So I spent my formative teen years chasing after and amassing a collection of hardcore, softcore and HBO-late-night-programming videotapes that ultimately filled a military footlocker so heavy that I needed another hand to help me carry it – often at the cost of loaning out some of the material inside.

In high school, I was all about collecting black porn: the massive-titted bleached-blonde white women most conventionally associated with porn, while nice, became far too quotidian to keep my interest. Thanks to a very open-minded dad and friends in high school who were actually old enough to procure the stuff for me, I got my ample share of chocolate booty on film.

I was an early (read: underage) loyalist of Video Team’s Afro-Centric material -- namely the “Sista” and “My Baby Got Back” series. Fellow connoisseurs will recall the days of black porn laureates like Janet Jacme, Ron Hightower and Dominique Simone, on whose breasts you could balance three dwarves holding meal trays.

I knew all these porn folks more intimately than I probably should have. I knew Midori was singer Jody Watley’s sister. I knew that Crystal Knight actually performed when she was pregnant for a while. I thought that Mr. Marcus was the luckiest motherfucker on two-and-a-half legs. Hell, I still do.

As the years have elapsed, however, I’ve found that my attitude toward black porn has been tangential with my attitude toward hip-hop: the halcyon days have long fallen away, and now we have to dig a bit deeper for quality where there once was an abundance.

Back in the day, black porn starlets looked like they actually took into consideration that the world would see every bit of their creation and thus stayed in the gym. They were beautiful, diminutive and relatively innocent-looking, which made it delightfully shocking when they took penises the size of baby arms in their back doors like it was just another day on the job.

The black women in contemporary porn have devolved significantly. Honestly, these dames look like they’re smooth out of a strip club on the east side of Detroit. Broken press-on nails, belly folds, foot-long stretch marks and faces so buttery you’d think the beautiful women actually developed a collective sense of self-worth and left the porn to their busted brethren.

I think black porn reached its apogee around 1998, when Dee – one of my favorite “black” porn stars who’s actually Puerto Rican – was in her prime. Back then, you could pick up a title like “United Colors of Ass” or “Booty Talk” and know you would get at least three scenes with slammin’ women you’d actually consider taking home to mom if it weren’t for the whole porn thing. Now, I just assume that the sisters are gonna be all grody-looking and I will examine a DVD box much more closely before checking it out.

I can’t even tell you who the hot black actresses are today. It may be a result of a generally decreased interest in porn, as I can’t really rattle off the names of new porn starlets of any race (actually having a sex life drastically alters one’s overall interest in licentious viewing material, I’ve learned), but I pay enough attention to know that the “My Baby Got Back” series fell the hell off after, like, volume 25, and that that’s a reflection of the overall black subgenre.

Since the porn industry is in no real danger of suffering from the recession anytime soon (two things Americans will always need: health care and orgasms), I’m thinking we can get some of these beautiful sisters graduating college to a depressed job market to consider jumping into adult and increase the tone of black porn while netting six figures in the process.

I’m sure Mr. Marcus would be pleased to go back to the days of old. I know I would.

"Notorious" film review

It would be an understatement to say that my expectations of the Notorious movie were abysmally low: The trailer was cornball, the folks responsible for the movie include P. Diddy as a producer and the guy who wrote Biker Boys, and (speaking of Biker Boyz) Derek Luke hasn't been in anything watchable since Antwone Fisher.

And yet, the film wasn't exactly a terrible piece of tripe.

Maybe it's that I see so many movies of a myriad genre and range that my expectations are low, but as far as biopics go, I think this could have been executed much worse...a sentiment not exactly shared by all.

The acting overall was not as bad as it could have been; newcomer Jamal Woolard did a pretty good job filling the titular character's sausagey shoes. He appropriately captured the presumed swagger of Christopher Wallace, as well as the emotional depth of his more reflective moments with his mother and his children. One of the most resonant scenes was Biggie's response to finding out his mother had breast cancer, as I could envision many young men responding the exact same way he did.

This Woolard guy is actually a real-life rapper with the stage name "Gravy." Is it wrong that I just blindly assume that this dude can't rap? How negative I've gotten toward my beloved genre...

But I digress. The story lines involving Lil' Kim and Faith Evans were interesting, if for no other reason than that I was curious how two relatively attractive women gravitated toward the fattest, nastiest, blackest motherfucker I've ever seen get famous. Kim's character did spend about 72 percent of the movie with her knockers out and pissed off at Big, so I guess I can see why the real-life Lil' Kim might be ticked at that. Not that I don't believe for a second that shit actually did go down grimy between the two of them.

The film would have us believe that 2Pac, Suge Knight and other devious West Coast rap personalities waged a one-sided war on the East Coast during the infamous mid-90s coastal strife. Was 'Pac the asshole they made him out to be and Biggie completely devoid of any wrongdoing? Perhaps, but I take into account that Notorious is a film basically made by the folks that loved him the most, so I'm going to assume some level of creative bias.

Things I didn't like? The movie deferred to the saccharine quite often; especially near the end when Big supposedly made peace with everyone in his life right before he was killed, as if he knew for sure it would happen. I didn't like that Angela Bassett used a fraction of her ass to execute Violetta Wallace's Jamaican accent. In fact, I'm mad that she's typecast period as the maternal figure of trouble famous figures.

This movie is no Ray, and it sure as hell is no Walk the Line. It isn't even quite as enjoyable as 8 Mile (though I may be biased). But if you do what I do and buy the "child" movie tickets with your debit card from the Fandango machines, you shouldn't consider this a waste of your $7.50.

Also, any hip-hop nonfiction piece that's set in the early- to mid-1990s (a la 8 Mile) is likely to have a very dope soundtrack. Notorious is no exception.

Rappers are fucking idiots

FACT: Real street niggas move in silence and under the radar to do dirt...they don't record ridiculous assaults and post them on the internet.

FACT: Showing up at an innocent man's doorstep unexpectedly with like 9 other motherfuckers and pretending like you're brolic for delivering an open-handed slap does not make you gangsta. It makes you a herb.

FACT: Talking about how you're gonna pay so-and-so a visit if they ever speak your name on wax is silly bitch shit.

FACT: Almost none of what rappers say is worth believing.

Remember KRS-One and MC Shan? Roxanne and Roxanne Shante? LL Cool J and Kool Moe Dee? Common and Ice Cube? Nas and Jay-Z? That was hip-hop beef. It was about territory, bragging rights and rhymes. You had a few verses, lots of shit-talking and the fans deciding the victor.

This shit right here? This isn't a true rap battle...it's ignorance personified. Joe Budden and Ransom, semi-successful and virtually unknown Jersey rappers respectively, have had something of a "beef" for a while now, but I couldn't tell you if or when either of these rat bastards actually put any verses out about it. But I can point to several videos in which BOTH rappers are talking copious amounts of trash and threatening one another with physical violence. Now while I'd be all about seeing rappers go at it in a fair battle of fisticuffs, there's nothing to gain aurally, and at the end of the day, this is the only relevant purpose rappers serve to me.

I just don't like this back-and-forth loser shit...especially what Ransom did by showing up to this guy's doorstep. You got beef with one man so you go out and attack his best friend, who had NOTHING to do with anything?!?!? This does not make you hardcore - anyone who knows anything about the laws of the street knows that this is not how real cats handle business.

Hip-hop is always kinda dead in the fourth quarter, so before I post my Best of 2008 blogs, this silliness should tide you over.

"YES they deserved to die, and I hope they burn in hell!!!"

Some four years ago, my then-girlfriend Robin and I drove from Chicago to Ann Arbor to catch a football game at our alma mater. During a pre-game gathering of her sorority sisters at a residence close to the Big House, a raucous drunk cat walking up the street engaged us in smack talk that not only made them uncomfortable, but pissed them off as well.

As if through some weird twist of kismet, the dude ended up focusing much of his attention on Robin…of all the women there. And because I was basically the sole male representative there (There was another dude, but he was like 5’ 3” and I think he was gay. Not to say that short gay brothers can’t scrap, but…well…), surrounded by women who were yelling at him and basically provoking him, I was in the unenviable position of trying to diffuse the situation.

This cat ended up getting uncomfortably close to Robin with all his discursive bullshit, and though she was herself prepared to start throwing blows, he didn’t push any of us to the point where we had to lay our hands on him before he went about his business. He even got to the point where he was ready to square off directly with me, but I gave dude a lot of rope because he was drunk as fuck at two-something in the afternoon.

I haven’t been in a real fight in over a decade, and I do think that grown men fighting is a loser’s gambit. But that whole time the thought kept swirling in my head, “I’m really gonna have to earth this nigga!” If he’d laid so much as a thumbprint on Robin, for any reason, I would have done so with no compunction. Hell, she and I would have been pounding on him together.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the merits of the nonviolent mentality – the idea being that the total energy of the world is negatively affected for every person who commits themselves to even the desire of violence. The sheer number of people who carry around that baggage apparently help stimulate the abundance of conflict and human atrocity on the planet. (Yeah…blame this spiritual kick I’m on. Better yet, blame Thomas)

However, I think there’s something to be said for having it in you to be able to get down with your knuckles if necessary. However uncommon or unlikely it may be given one’s living situation, there could arise a need to defend at some point.

A fundamental tenet of martial arts is that one should only use their training if absolutely necessary. But the people that actually have said training sit a few echelons above the schlubs who would fold if they had to go head up and defend themselves or their loved ones.

I think one’s approach to fighting or conflict in general is a reflection of how they came up. Chances are, if you went to a nice artsy school in the suburbs where the students are on a first-name basis with the teachers and everyone participates in thrice-daily hand-holding “comfort circles,” you’ve never seen a fight in your life and wouldn’t know how to handle yourself if one came about.

I came up in Detroit, and went to public school K-12. I think my fellow natives of the D will agree that there’s a certain “edge” present in folks who grow up in or around the hood. I’m always tickled when I hear my city channeled as a noun of aggression: “I’m cool now, but they don’t wanna see me bring Detroit out!”

I grew up fighting, often because I had to. I was a short, skinny cat who would get trapped in school bathrooms by big motherfuckers who meant me harm, and I had to either throw them thangs (yes, I said thangs) or fall. Sometimes both happened. I won mine and I lost mine…but as an adult, I now know how to handle myself if someone decides to get brolic.

But that’s just one aspect of the whole violence piece: what about those situations where the average person would just feel inclined to commit violence as a result of the actions of others?

On occasion, I think about what it would take for me to truly harm another human being, and it always comes back to the rapists and murderers. If someone were to do something heinous enough like rape my hypothetical wife, daughter or another loved one, I would have a very, very hard time not going Samuel Jackson “A Time To Kill” on their ass instead of waiting for the law to take care of business.

I believe with every fiber of my being that the world is actually a better place if the truly malicious people aren’t allowed to continue living with the same privileges/faculties that they used to either violate or eliminate someone else’s life. Think about how many rapists have repeat victims because they were never reported – let alone punished – the first time around. Maybe if a sexual predator were violently castrated after his first victim, then he wouldn’t be able to potentially ruin other lives. I’m just saying…food for thought.

Many moons ago, I had a “requirement list” of things I expect from a woman I would wanna settle down with (I’ll post it someday if I can find it). While the very concept of the list is entirely obsolete, let alone the contents, I remember one of the requirements was a “ride-or-die chick:” a female who’s willing to battle – verbally and physically – for her man if necessary. A scrappy dame, if you will.

It’s not as prosaic as it reads, really: I feel more comfortable if I know a woman will be ready and willing to fight for both her life and the life of our children if need be. When the fit hits the shan, “survival of the fittest” doesn’t always allow for nonviolent conflict resolution. Unfortunately, that’s just not the fucking world we live in.

My questions to you all: is violence ever an answer? Should people have it in them to respond violently if NECESSARY, or is it better to grow up a complete pacifist? Is Dustin way off-base in his spiritual journey? Or is he justified? How would you respond if someone killed or heinously attacked a loved one? Would you just let the law take care of it or would you whip out the iron and go a-huntin’?

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts…

Random Ish 37: The Bailout Edition

You gotsta chiilll.....

Early on in my college days, back when a pack of 10 74-minute blank CDs still cost damn near $20, I burned a compilation of music that I affectionately dubbed "Random Shit." If I remember correctly, the compilation included some old Craig Mack, Big Noyd and Brand Nubian stuff, as well as a random DMX mixtape track.

Throughout the decade I've made several "Random Ish" mixes that often consisted of several tracks from a single album, as well as other loose change that I'd pick up on sites like Napster and Audiogalaxy (don't y'all just miss Audiogalaxy?!?!?!?). Most of my earliest mixes fell victim to heavy scratching and chipping, with much of the source music from them contained on old computers that will never boot up again. I'd actually pay good money that I don't have to get some of those CDs back...mainly because there were some pretty obscure cuts on them that I can't just go buy from iTunes; and because it'd be a nice, nostalgic trip back to when life was hella simpler.

I haven't made a new one since early last summer, so I figure it was only apropos to share the newest collection - and all future editions - with you all. There's some fire on the 37th iteration of "Random Ish," if I do say so myself; take special note of a track from EPMD's new album (!) and this cat Son of Ran from California. I think he might actually be a Christian emcee, maybe, but it doesn't detract from the fact that his debut album Incoming Message is actually that lick.

Ask around: my compilations are the shit of legend.

http://www.zshare.net/download/52603476662fffc1/

1. "Disturbed" - Blame One & Exile (feat. Sean Price)
2. "Say You Will" - Kanye West
3. "My Theme Music" - Skyzoo
4. "For U" (M-Phazes Remix) - Buff 1
5. "Play Your Position" - Skyzoo (feat. Guilty Simpson)
6. "The Haters Wish" - Clipse
7. "Incoming Message" - Son of Ran and The Messangers
8. "Gladiator" - Common
9. "Runnin' Out of Time" - Nature
10. "The A" - Now On (feat. Buff 1)
11. "Bac Stabbers" - EPMD
12. "The Leak" - Slaughterhouse (Royce Da' 5'9", Joe Budden, Crooked I & Joell Ortiz)
13. "Heart Breakers" - Son of Ran and The Messangers
14. "Street Lights" - Kanye West
15. "Turn It Up" - Skyzoo
16. "Last of a Dying Breed" - Ludacris (feat. Lil' Wayne)
17. "Heartless" - Kanye West

Sexuality in the gym

Having made my unceremonious return to the gym-rat lifestyle, one of things that really caught my attention this time around is the rampant sexuality in the environment.

Not only are all the attractive ladies I see on the streets in my everyday life also in the gym, but they’re half-naked and contorted in all kinds of suggestive positions; often using those big rubber balls that started popping up in everyone’s living room a few years ago. Never before have I felt so envious of something created in a Taiwanese sweatshop.

You look on the TV monitors of the treadmills and stair machines, and most are tuned into music video channels featuring half-naked video yamps whose bodies undoubtedly serve as a motivating factor for patrons of either sex.

You can tell the difference between the cats on the freeweights who want their muscles ogled and those who are putting in an honest workout: the latter have on hoodies, and the former are wearing tank-tops that Carmen Electra would consider too small.

Even many of the gym’s staff members - especially the ones responsible for selling memberships for commission - are preternaturally attractive (Keep in mind I’m a member of a trendy new spot in Chicago, not a soccer mom-attracting YMCA in Hoboken, N.J.).

Admittedly, the whole aesthetic appeals to a longtime fetish of mine: women who are in the process of – or just completed – working out. It’s something about spandex, a sports bra and lots and lots of glistening sweat that revs the kid’s engine. Lots of women feel all gross and disgusting after working out, but I look at them and think to myself, “Let’s make babies!”

I wonder how many people are looking – consciously or not – to find their partners at the gym. It’s an environment in which people are already trying to improve themselves, so why not capitalize on that insane monthly membership and get the body and the booty in the same building?

I’m guessing it’s a glorified hookup environment, much in the same way that the undergrad library is at any major university. I bet many folks don’t just go to the gym to get right…they do it to see and be seen, with the hope of a denouement that involves them doing squat thrusts with someone else back at the cut.

And with the enticing visuals – the big, bulging muscles; bare, toned tummies and the aforementioned glisten – it seems like folks should be in a mindset where it shouldn’t be TOO hard to pull the math from the dime on the treadmill next to you. “Hi…can I wipe down your machine for you? What are you up to after this? Wanna go grab a wheat germ smoothie?”

Plus, if you see someone in the gym frequently, you know they’re dedicated to keeping their body right and are probably not as likely to pack on that spare tire or thunderous ass anytime in the near future. All the better for the resume.

For me, the sexy visuals are just a motivating factor, and you’re a damned liar if you say that all those pretty folks in there don’t motivate you to run a bit faster or lift a bit more. The reasoning is twofold: You don’t wanna look like a chump with the right set of eyes on you, and there’s the fantasy that the person attached to those eyes might be more obtainable to you once you actually get your frame right.

Ladies, think about it: who would better motivate you to turn that treadmill up a bit higher – an unattached Morris Chestnut or George Costanza from Seinfeld?

The Perfect MK

About a month ago, I undertook a project to compile my very favorite Black Milk tracks onto one mp3 CD that I could pretty much bump on a whole road trip from Chicago to Detroit. The process was tedious but ultimately very rewarding.

The Perfect MK is a testament to the millennium's best new hip-hop artist. A labor of love, if you will. If you're a fan of boom-bap, you can't do much better in the 21st Century. If you're a hip-hop neophyte and need some relevant hot shit to get you jump-started, please don't start with Lil' Wayne, Gucci Mane or the throng of wack motherfuckers mass-producing assflakes and calling it music. Take the time to mine these 80 cuts and get back to me.

Merry Christmas, bitches.

Disc 1 - http://www.zshare.net/download/522296028eefc08b/

1. “Take it There” (feat. One Be Lo)
2. “Multiply” – Slum Village
3. “The Matrix” (feat. Sean Price and Pharoahe Monch)
4. “Action” (feat. Slum Village and Baatin)
5. Beat 1
6. “U’s a Freak Bitch”
7. “Ahead of the Basics” – Nametag
8. “Get Focus” – Black Milk & Fat Ray (feat. Phat Kat & Elzhi)
9. “So Gone”
10. Beat 2
11. “Superman”
12. “Motown 25” – Elzhi (feat. Royce Da 5’9”)
13. “Stern” – Illy Hutch & Black Milk
14. “Duck”
15. “Set It” – Slum Village
16. Beat 4
17. Purple Track #1
18. “Now We Gone” – Black Milk & Fat Ray
19. “Fire”(Solo mix) – Elzhi
20. “Play Your Position” – Skyzoo (feat. Guilty Simpson)


Disc 2 – http://www.zshare.net/download/5222998904ee7adc/

1. “Never Fall” – Buff 1 (feat. Black Milk)
2. “Watch Em” (feat. Que Diesel & Fat Ray)
3. “The Intro” – Nametag
4. “Lookout” – Fat Ray & Black Milk (feat. Nametag)
5. “Try”
6. “Pressure”
7. Sound of the City Intro
8. “Play the Keys”
9. “Marvelous” – Baatin
10. “Keep it Live” (feat. Mr. Porter)
11. “Brag Swag” – Elzhi
12. “Nothing to Hide” – Fat Ray & Black Milk
13. “Rhyme Royal” – Nametag
14. “Popular Demand”
15. “Bounce”
16. “Bootleggers” – Slum Village
17. “Sound The Alarm” (feat. Guilty Simpson
18. “About Me”
19. “Anotha Club Hit” – Nametag
20. “Hold Tight” (Remix) (feat. Black Milk) - Skyzoo


Disc 3 - http://www.zshare.net/download/522304657053084f/

1. “That’s That One” – Elzhi
2. “Goatit” (feat. Phat Kat)
3. Beat 2
4. “Not U” – Fat Ray & Black Milk
5. “U” (feat. Ty & Kory)
6. “Long Story Short”
7. “Action Pack” – Nametag (feat. Useless Detroit Niggas)
8. “Insane”
9. “This That” (feat Marv Won)
10. “Reunion” – Slum Village
11. “Trinity” (interlude) – Slum Village
12. “Say Something” (feat. Nametag)
13. “Bond 4 Life” (feat. Melanie Rutherford)
14. “Tell ‘Em” (feat. Nametag)
15. “Ugly” – Fat Ray & Black Milk
16. “Danger” – Phat Kat (feat. T3 and Black Milk)
17. “Shut it Down”
18. “Guessing Game” – Elzhi
19. “Bang Dis Shit” (feat Nametag)
20. “Hold Tight” – Skyzoo
21. “Momentum Music” - Nametag


Disc 4 - http://www.zshare.net/download/5223089344a14e4d/

1. “Losing Out” (feat Royce Da 5’9”)
2. “Welcome to the District” – Fat Ray & Black Milk
3. “Applause”
4. “Middle of the Map, Part 1” – Kidz in the Hall
5. “Middle of the Map, Part 2” – Kidz in the Hall
6. “Bang That Shit Out” – Black Milk and Bishop Lamont (feat. Diverse)
7. “Give The Drummer Sum”
8. “Let’s Go” – Pharoahe Monch (feat. Mela Machinko)
9. “Three+Sum”
10. “The Leak” - Elzhi (feat. Ayah)
11. “Sound the Alarm” (Remix) (feat. Royce Da 5’9” and Guilty Simpson)
12. “The Transitional Joint” – Elzhi
13. “Overdose”
14. “Flawless” – Fat Ray & Black Milk
15. “Home of the Greats”
16. “Hear This” – Slum Village
17. “About You” – Nametag
18. “Get Up” – Fat Ray & Black Milk
19. “I’m Out”